


Everything The Water Can Be

by Andian



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Horror, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 04:37:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20203843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andian/pseuds/Andian
Summary: "This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we are looking into the disappearance of two young men at a lake in Louisiana. They vanished under mysterious circumstances and the only witness, their friend who had been with them at the time of their disappearance, has been unable to tell police just exactly what has happened. Tonight we are here to find out more about that fateful night at Lake Pontchartrain."





	Everything The Water Can Be

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiffElderberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/gifts).

“This week on Buzzfeed Unsolved we are looking into the disappearance of two young men at a lake in Louisiana. They vanished under mysterious circumstances and the only witness, their friend who had been with them at the time of their disappearance, has been unable to tell police just exactly what has happened. Tonight we are here to find out more about that fateful night at Lake Pontchartrain.”

Ryan finished his introduction and turned away from the camera towards Shane. 

“How was that one?” he asked. 

“I liked it. I especially like the part where you skipped over how you believe that the lake literally opened up and swallowed them,” Shane said. “Good work, it almost made you sound like a sane person.”

“That was what the guy who survived told the police! Voices coming from the lake and the crawfish…”

“Oh yeah, the crawfish screaming, not gonna lie, that part almost made me lose my appetite at dinner.”

“You had two plates of the crawfish. And the rest of my chicken,” Ryan said, still slightly put-off. The crawfish had looked delicious but he had listened to the police tape of the only survivor of the Lake Pontchartrain disappearance describing the night of the incident too many times to ever truly feel comfortable around crustaceans again.

“And it was very good crawfish and I have yet to see anything in the swamps.” Shane made a show out of raising his hand to shield his eyes as he squinted at the swamp surrounding them. It was somewhat ruined by the fact that the sun had set some hours ago and the only thing beside them alive in the swamp seemed to be a bunch of mosquitoes. 

So far three of them had already bitten Ryan while Shane’s giraffe blood seemed to keep him safe. Ryan was starting to feel like this was going to be a long night. 

“Let’s go the sign,” he said. “See if the spirit box picks up anything.” 

“Oh, it’s actually a ghost hunt?” Shane said, sounding delighted about all of this. Ryan hadn’t seen him this happy about wandering around in the middle of the night in the wilderness since they were hunting Bigfoot.

“I thought your prevailing theory was crawfish monster taking its revenge.”

“No, my first theory was a water spirit,” Ryan said with as much dignity as he could muster. He had stepped into a puddle and his right shoe and sock were now completely soaked, making even walking with some dignity an almost impossible task. 

“So why the spirit box then?” 

“Never discount any theory until it has been scientifically disproven,” Ryan said. It was a good sentence. He’d remember it should Shane ask why he had brought his holy water to what was essentially a monster hunt.

“Science, sure…” Shane trailed off. Ryan threw him a suspicious look, wondering why he’d let a chance to make fun of Ryan pass. 

“Did you say something?” Shane then suddenly said. He was staring at the lake, forehead furrowed.

“I didn’t. Why, did you hear something?” Memories of the police tape came back to Ryan. Voices calling from under the lake, the man had said.

But Shane just shrugged and threw Ryan a quick grin.

“Must have been the wind,” he said and kept on walking.

“Sure,” Ryan said, not feeling nearly as comfortable. “The wind.”

They made it to the sign after a few more minutes of walking and Ryan pulled out the spirit box. 

“Wa… ows… get… ter…” Like always the spirit box sounded like somebody quickly switching through radio stations before anything could actually be heard. 

“As useful as always,” Shane said cheerfully. “Go on, talk to it, I know you want to.”

Ryan rolled his eyes and tried to ignore him. 

“Darius,” he said. “Noland. We … uh … heard what happened to you. Are any of you still here? Can you hear us? Can you tell us what happened to you?”

“Wa … ter … cra … end.”

“Oh, I think they are asking for watercress,” Shane said. “You know what, that would have actually been really good with the crawfish.”

“Craw …. Fish.”

“Uh,” Ryan stared at the spirit box, a cold shudder running down his back. “Did you … did you hear that?”

“The spirit box? It’s hard not to hear it.”

“No, I mean the-“

“Wa … de … … water … craw … fish.” The sound of the spirit box was changing. It sounded much less like the recording of a bunch of radio stations indiscriminately glued together. The sound, Ryan thought with sudden horror, did in fact almost started to sound like an actual human voice.

“Hey, I think I almost made out a word there! Crow-dish? That’s weird.”

“Water … free … feed … Pontchartrain.”

Ryan almost dropped the spirit box. The last word had been spoken clearly, as clearly as anything he had ever heard coming from the spirit box. It had also not sounded like a fragment of a song or the gruff voice of a seasoned radio host at all. 

It had sounded like a young man. And it had sounded scared. So scared.

“Shane, I think we should-“ Ryan said turning towards Shane. Who was not standing next to him. Ryan blinked dumbfounded at the empty spot that Shane had been standing at just moments ago. 

“Shane-“ Ryan began, his voice breaking. “Where- where are you? Come on, this isn’t funny!” 

Panicked he looked around. It was flat swamplands all around him, there was no way Shane and his stupidly long legs could hide here. And yet he was nowhere to be seen. Unless…

Really not wanting to Ryan turned around and towards the lake. Or where the lake had been. Because it was gone now. 

Not gone, Ryan realized, coldness rushing through him as fear gripped his lungs making it hard to breathe. The lake had split in two, the water built up into walls that revealed a path leading deeper into the middle of the lake.

And the sound. How the hell had he been able to ignore the sound until now?! They were screaming. 

The crawfish were screaming and he could see them, in the walls of the lake, thousands of them, millions maybe, watching the path with their black eyes, coloring the water red with their bodies.

And on the path, watched by a million eyes, there was Shane. Walking towards the middle of the lake, seemingly completely oblivious to the horror going on around him. Just walking straight ahead and Ryan suddenly could see three figures at the end of the path. Just standing there. Waiting. Waiting for Shane.

Without fully realizing it he started running. 

“Shane!” he yelled. “Shane, get the hell out of there!”

It was hard though. The path was muddy and wet and he was shaking violently. And the crawfish were still screaming around him and god, what kind of sound was this? What kind of animal was able to produce a sound like this?! 

Shane was walking slowly at least and somehow Ryan managed to catch up to him before he reached the three figures waiting at the end of the path. 

“Shane,” Ryan panted, out of breath from running. “Shane, buddy, come on, stop it!

He grabbed Shane’s shoulder but Shane just kept walking, like a piece of driftwood tugged in deeper by a current. Ryan tried again but Shane was clearly stronger than Ryan. Or whatever was currently possessing Shane was stronger. 

“The voices,” Shane mumbled. “The voices are calling.” There was something dreamy and unnatural in Shane’s voice. His eyes were glassy.

“Forget the voices!” Ryan knew he sounded hysterical. Shane hadn’t stopped walking though and the three figures were coming closer and closer.

“Come on, don’t do this to do me!” Ryan begged. “Shane, please, come on! I can’t lose you like this! Who is going to make fun of my alien theories if you are drowning in some stupid crawfish invested lake?!”

“I’ll just rest my soul. Feed my brain. Crawfish. Crawfish till the bitter end.”

“Shane, please, if you … if you come with me you can make as much fun of the spirit box as you want! I am a going to do as many demon episodes as you want!” He was running out of ideas and time. The three figures were so close now, close enough that Ryan could make out some details. 

Three men, one old with yellowed-eyes and two younger men standing on either side of him. And maybe soon Shane next to them, it shot through Ryan’s head, if he couldn’t find a way to stop this, to stop Shane. 

“I will do a live reenactment of the Hot Dog Saga!” 

This stopped Shane dead in his tracks.

“The Hot Daga?” His voice was still coming from somewhere that was clearly not here. But it was also starting to sound a bit more like Shane.

“Yes,” Ryan said quickly. “The … the Hot Daga.”

“All of it?”

“All of it!”

“And the…”

“And the voices, yes, I’ll do the voices!” 

For a long moment Shane did nothing, just standing there, staring at the three figures waiting at the end of the path. Around them the waves were dancing and the water was roaring. 

“But you have come back with me, Shane,” Ryan said softly, reaching for Shane’s hand. “Back to .. back somewhere not here.”

The crawfish were still screaming. But Shane’s hand closed around his. His heart beating so fast it felt like it was trying to escape his rib cage, Ryan slowly turned around, holding Shane’s hand and walked back towards the shore. He fully expected something to happen. For the three men to attack them from behind, yelling like demons at them about everything the water could be. For the crawfish to start screaming even louder.

For the walls of the lake to crash down around them, pulling them inside, to the men, to the crawfish, to a watery grave. 

But nothing happened. Shane followed willingly and Ryan stared straight ahead, trying his best to ignore the crawfish still watching them. And the moment both of them stepped on the shore, the crawfish stopped screaming.

A breath escaped Ryan and he felt his entire body suddenly shake with relief. Turning around he could see that the walls of water had disappeared as suddenly as they had appeared, leaving behind only the illusion of a peaceful lake in full moonlight.

“Any reason you are holding my hand?” Shane suddenly asked, sounding amused. Ryan turned around so quickly, he almost twisted his neck.

“You are back! Thank God!” 

“I wasn’t gone? Just zooned out a bit, you know, the spirit box does that to me.”

“But the lake! Don’t you … don’t you remember the lake and the crawfish and the men and the …”

“You’re okay there?” Shane leant closer, looking at Ryan with some concern. “Maybe we should leave, I think this place is as bad as the Sally house for you.”

Ryan opened his mouth to scream at Shane that he had been this close to joining the water spirit or the crawfish monster or whatever the hell was going on with this stupid lake but then he closed it again, suddenly feeling too exhausted for this particular fight. They were too close still to this lake, to close to whatever power had almost taken Shane away and he just wanted to leave as quickly as possible. He needed to leave. 

“Let’s just go,” he said. He should just be glad that Shane was okay, he thought. After all a small bottle of holy water would do nothing against an entire lake full of crawfish he figured. And at least he wouldn’t actually have to do a live reenactment of the Hot Dog Saga this way. 

Slowly Shane and him made their way back to the car.

“You know what,” Shane said. “I suddenly had a really good idea.”

“What?”

“Live reenactment.” Once more a sense of dread started building in Ryan.

“Me. You. The Hot Daga. And the voices! The viewers will love it!”

Once more something was screaming loudly at Lake Pontchartrain. Only this time it wasn’t the crawfish.

**Author's Note:**

> Anymore questions about this fic just go and ask Lake Pontchartrain. The song by Ludo, I mean. On which this fic was based on.


End file.
